


Switchblade

by ImNeitherNor



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Billy has a thing for knives, D&D, Dom!Billy, Dom!Steve, Emotions, Fluff, Jonathan is a boo, M/M, Rangers, Steve Thinks Too Much, Steve's Pov, barbarians - Freeform, even during sex, lots of music references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 00:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13625001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNeitherNor/pseuds/ImNeitherNor
Summary: Billy's obsession with his knife has Steve's attention, but then Steve starts noticingotherthings about Billy Hargrove. Eventually, noticing turns into liking, and liking turns into something he doesn't want to name.Especially since he issureBilly doesn't swing that way.It doesn't stop them from stumbling into a careful dance around music, though, even if Steve pines for something he doesn't believe he'll ever have.





	Switchblade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohmybgosh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmybgosh/gifts).



> This is for ohmybgosh. You are an INSPIRATION.
> 
> Special thanks to my wonderful beta, sstrashbarge!

Switchblade

 

 

 

 

            If there was one thing Steve noticed about Billy Hargrove, it was that not a lot of things were important to him—not even Tommy or Carol. As far as Steve was concerned, Billy _put up with them_ , but didn’t necessarily like them. It was as if he kept them around for the sake of popularity. He was sure that was it. Hell, he knew how annoying Tommy could be.

 

            That wasn’t the point, though. Hargrove cared about specific things. The first was basketball (although he could argue it was the Camaro). The guy ripped up the court and tore anyone down who came between him and the basket. The second was his reputation. No matter what, he was the Cali, sun-tanned king who ripped Steve’s crown off and could keg with the best of them. The third was more innocuous. It stayed hidden at school, rarely making an appearance, but once they were out of the building, it was in his hand like one of his cigarettes.

 

            Billy’s knife. His switchblade.

 

            Steve wouldn’t have even known about the stupid thing (it’s stupid for _reasons_ ), but as their relationship began to form--two fucked up puzzle pieces in orbit, ready to crash headlong into each other—he became _really fucking familiar_ with that blade.

 

            It started with a pudding cup.

 

~*~

 

            “Just stab it with your key,” Nancy rolled her eyes and took another bite of her apple. Steve was struggling with his chocolate pudding. The seal had ripped off just before the actual pudding, and he didn’t have nails. He wasn’t about to ask Nancy to do it for him or anyone else, for that matter. He wasn’t _five_.

 

            “No. That’s disgusting. Do you even _know_ where that’s been?” Steve scrunched his nose up and with a sigh of frustration, slapped the cup down to the side.

 

            “Problems, pretty boy?” The tenor voice sent a chill down Steve’s spine, somewhere between pleasure and fear. It was odd how Billy did that to him. He was weary because of that night in November where his face got pulverized, but the attraction that he had felt since watching Billy role in hadn’t diminished.

 

            It should have, but it didn’t.

 

            “No,” Steve glared and reached out. Before he could grab the pudding, Billy picked it up and flipped it into the air before catching it again. “Come on, Hargrove. Fuck off.”

 

            “Is it come on or fuck off?” Billy grinned and it was all teeth. Steve’s lips thinned and he watched as Billy pulled the switchblade out of his pocket. The knife sprung free with ease and, in seconds, the plastic top was off and Billy was setting the cup back on the table. He waved his knife at Steve before licking the pudding off the tip.

 

            As Billy began to saunter off, Nancy raised her eyebrows and looked at Steve contemplatively.

 

            Steve snatched his pudding and shoved his spoon into it. Billy had taken the top, was licking it as he left, and Steve could hear him laughing.

 

~*~

 

            “The Cars are _not trash_ ,” Steve waved the new cassette at Jonathan, who shook his head in clear dismay.

 

            “I’m telling you, they _are_ ,” Jonathan was hiding his grin and Steve was beginning to think he was being goaded. They both stood in front of his BMW. Basketball practice had just ended, but both of them were staying behind for their respective children (seriously, when had Steve started calling them that?).

 

            “You just have to _listen_ ,” Steve insisted. He began to pull at the plastic surrounding the tape. It snapped and stretched, but with his blunt nails, and the frustration simmering below his skin at the argument (and Jonathan was enjoying it!), he couldn’t manage to get it open.

 

            “Lover’s quarrel?” Billy had walked up behind Steve and he almost jumped out of his god damned skin.

 

            “What the _fuck_ , Hargrove!” Steve hissed. He whirled around to face him, but unlike Jonathan, who tensed, he leaned against his car and looked unamused. “Don’t you have someone else to harass?”

 

            “Not currently, no,” Billy tossed his bag onto the trunk of his Camaro. If Steve had been smart, he would have realized that they had parked next to each other and—shit, who was he kidding? He _knew_. He knew that he would run into him eventually and this shit was getting out of hand. “Why? You offering?”

 

            “No,” Steve clenched his jaw.

 

            “You’ve been saying that a lot to me recently, Harrington. I’m gonna get a yes out of you at some point,” Billy’s eyes dropped to the cassette in his hands. He looked shocked for a moment before he held his hand out. “Gimme that.”

 

            “Why?” Steve yelped as Billy grabbed the cassette. He stepped forward and made a move to snatch it back, but Billy eased to the side, avoiding him entirely. Just like in basketball, his movement was smooth and calculated, even as he flipped out that fucking switchblade and dragged it across the plastic.

 

            Steve looked at Jonathan and made a gesture at Billy, as if he was saying ‘ _what the fuck_ ’ and Jonathan shrugged. That didn’t fucking help!

 

            “Holy shit,” Billy paused as he unwrapped the plastic. Apparently, he hadn’t even looked at the cassette. He glanced over the title and flipped it over. “This is The Cars. Heartbeat City, yeah? This is good shit.”

 

            “It is not,” Jonathan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

            “The fuck it isn’t—”

 

            “You are _so wrong_ —”

 

            Steve and Billy froze and looked at each other. Steve wasn’t sure what was going on in Billy’s head, but his eyes were calculating and his grip was firm on the cassette.

 

            “Well, you two can have your fun listening to shit music,” Jonathan scoffed, breaking the awkward moment. He sent Steve one of those small, knowing smiles and walked off, hands pushed into his pockets. Steve stared after him and looked back at Billy, who’s eyes hadn’t strayed from him. His heart leapt into his throat and his palms began to sweat.

 

            “Do you want to listen to it…?” Steve chewed at a piece of his chapped lower lip and then frowned as Billy began to walk toward the Camaro _with his cassette_.

 

            “Hey! Asshole! I asked you a question,” Steve huffed and walked after him. Billy looked over his shoulder, a grin on his lips, and it nearly made Steve stumble. The grin was almost genuine, and there was little to no malice in his eyes as he tilted his head toward the blue muscle car.

 

            “Are you going to continue making a scene or are you going to join me?” Billy threw his door open and climbed in. He didn’t wait for a response, as if he expected a yes. It almost made Steve _not_ join him, but that was _his_ cassette, dammit. With long-suffering sigh, he gave in and opened the passenger side door. After sinking into Billy’s car, his skin crawled and his breath caught in his throat. The interior smelled like sandlewood, cigarettes, leather, and _Billy_.

 

            “-song? Harrington?” Billy was looking at him and _shit_ , Steve had been too caught up in the car.

 

            “What?” Steve looked over and glared at the amused expression on Billy’s face.

 

            “Your favorite song,” Billy repeated slowly and Steve _knew_ it was a jab at him for not paying attention.

 

            “It’s—” Steve felt himself blush from his cheeks to his neck. He cleared his throat and shrugged. “ _Why Can’t I Have You_.”

 

            “What?” Billy frowned, as if thrown off, and Steve sighed. He didn’t see the panic that had crossed Billy’s face or the way his hand froze over his radio panel.

 

            “The song. _Why Can’t I Have You_. That’s my favorite.” He huffed, daring Billy to say anything, but the other teen just laughed and nodded.

 

            “Right,” Billy slipped the cassette into his player after removing Led Zeppelin IV and throwing it carelessly into the backseat. “I like _I Refuse_ more, though.”

 

            “Big surprise there,” Steve glanced over and Billy raised his eyebrow.

 

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” Billy pressed play and leaned back against his seat. _Hello Again_ began playing through his speakers and Steve gestured at the car.

 

            “Typical play boy, right? Drives a fast car, gets all the girls, fights anyone who looks at him wrong. You refuse to be _involved_ , right?”

 

            When Steve looked over again, Billy was watching him. Those blue eyes were electric—a live wire—and Steve’s mouth went dry.

 

            “You have no idea what the song is about, do you?” Billy’s lips curled into a smirk and Steve sputtered.

 

            “That is _not_ true!”

 

            And that was how Steve spent a half an hour arguing about lyrics with Billy Hargrove in the parking lot after school.

 

            It was also when he realized that he was well and truly fucked when it came to his feelings for the guy.

 

~*~

 

            It became a _thing_. Steve and Billy would meet up at the quarry or in the parking lot and share music. Billy would make jabs at Steve’s tastes while Steve, with his animated hands and wide eyes, would gag at Billy’s music and cough (fake, of course) as Billy smoked. Sometimes, their arguments over music became heated enough that one of them would step out and then come back with another point, but they would always end with one of the songs they liked the most.

 

            Steve was starting to hate the song _Why Can’t I Have You_. It hit too close to home every time he looked over and saw Billy’s smile, heard his _real_ laugh and watched his fingers twitch whenever he wanted another cigarette.

 

~*~

 

            From then on, Steve found any reason at all for Billy to use his switchblade. If it led to them sharing something, knowing something _true_ about each other, he was all in. Maybe it was a terrible habit to go all in when he found something or someone he liked, but it was hard _not to_.

 

            Through their conversations, Steve learned a lot, and yet, not enough. He knew a couple of things Billy loved—DQ’s blizzard somewhere near the top. He had a killer sweet tooth, loved and hated some of the bands Steve listened to, used basketball as an outlet for a lot of pent up anger (that Steve still couldn’t place), and he was _intelligent_. Behind his asshole façade, Billy could outwit just about the best of their academic team.

 

            It made Steve wonder how Billy _didn’t_ _know_. He was sure he was obvious. Nancy had always said he was, but Billy acted aloof. He didn’t say anything when Steve stared too long or when his cheeks flushed. Hell, he even ignored how, at times, he had to repeat himself because Steve was fucking _gone_ in his own little world of ‘Billy and Me’(seriously this was getting way out of hand).

 

            Steve wasn’t sure how Billy felt. He didn’t want to think about it. Perhaps he didn’t want to know. What he _did_ know, though, was that Billy was incredibly guarded at school and in public. As soon as they left the safety of their cars, Billy changed and his persona became rough and challenging again. He took some of his barriers down around Steve now, but only when they were barely a foot apart, listening to music and poking fun at each other.

 

~*~

 

            Steve learned about Billy’s rage about a month into them exchanging music and hanging out. He pulled his BMW up next to the Camaro at the quarry and got out. A record sat in his passenger seat, sealed, and his stomach was in knots because it was a _gift_ and guys didn’t _buy_ each other gifts, but fuck. It was one of Billy’s favorite bands and on vinyl. He could never get Billy to shut up about the sound that came out of record players—how _good_ it was compared to cassette. Of course, Steve disagreed.

 

            It wasn’t until he was near the driver’s door to the Camaro that he realized something was wrong. Billy’s windows were up, but the overhead light was on. The mirror was down, and Steve could see the subtle flash of his blade near his face. Panicked, he grabbed the door and pulled it open.

 

            “Hargrove, what the fuck are you—” Steve choked on his words and felt his heart plummet to his gut, to the ground, so far from him that his skin became numb and he felt his thoughts scatter.

 

            Billy was _fucked up_. There was blood on his face. All over his face. His hair was matted in it and the collar of his shirt was turning brown. The bottom was also reddish brown from where he must have tried wiping his face off.

 

            “ _Billy_ ,” Steve eased down onto his knees and tried to catch Billy’s eyes. Those blues kept looking away, though, and he could see that they were wet. His thick eyelashes had tears gathered on them, and Steve was sure that if he blinked, they would fall.

 

            It was when Steve really looked that he started to see the glitter of glass in Billy’s hair. The cuts on his face that he had been prodding at with the blade were bleeding, and Steve had almost assumed they were self-inflicted. But that wasn’t like Billy. He glanced down at Billy’s free hand and saw the bits of glass in his palm and _knew_. He was digging glass out of his face. Out of his skin.

           

            Who had Billy fought? Were they _dead_? If Billy looked like this, how the fuck did the other person look?

 

            “Okay, okay,” Steve breathed in slowly and hesitated. “Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.” He got up and ran over to his car. After popping the trunk, Steve grabbed the first-aid kit and rushed back to Billy’s car. He opened the Camaro’s door as wide as it could go and dropped the kit on the ground. “Turn this way for me.”

 

            “Why are you helping me?” Billy bit out, but he sounded tired. Defeated.

 

            “Because that’s what _friends_ do,” Steve frowned. “We’re friends. At least, I thought so. Just let me help you.”

 

            “I beat your face in,” Billy reminded and Steve _knew_ it was an attempt to push him away, to get him to leave. Steve wasn’t fucking stupid, though.

 

            “And you haven’t apologized for it. I’m still waiting on that one, but right now we really need to take care of your face,” Steve placed a hand on the roof of the Camaro and leaned in, almost bending his body in half. “If it makes you feel any better, head wounds bleed like a bitch. It’s probably… not as bad as it looks. But I won’t know if you don’t move your ass.”

 

            Enough time passed that Steve was ready to haul Billy out himself, and then Billy _finally_ spoke.

 

            “I’m sorry.” It was the most _broken fucking thing_ Steve had ever heard. It was like Billy was apologizing for more than just that night, for more than just Steve’s face or his pain. He swallowed and ignored the burn in his eyes.

 

            “Forgiven. Now, look at me, dumbass,” Steve stepped back as Billy swung his legs around and faced him. He kneeled again and opened the first aid kit. When he turned back, there was a steady line of tears streaking down the blotches of blood on Billy’s face. Steve breathed in slowly and chose to ignore them for now. He was sure Billy wouldn’t appreciate the attention.

 

            Steve ripped open the cleaning wipes and spread them over his fingers. He began to clean Billy’s face with gentle movements, wiping the cloth along his forehead first and then down along his cheek. He changed cloths out more times than he would like to think about, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t angry. There were so many cuts. Some were jagged but shallow while others were far too deep.

 

            “Some of these… might need stitches,” Steve murmured, and his stomach clenched at the panic that flickered through Billy’s eyes.

 

            “No. _No_ hospitals. He would kill me,” Billy snapped his mouth shut, but it was out there, and now Steve was putting too many things together. The bruises, the timeliness, the way he was pushy with Max (even if he had been _okay_ recently—not nice—but okay). He watched as horror crept through Billy’s expression, and thought that maybe, he was mirroring his own.

 

            “Okay, no hospitals,” Steve wanted to ask. The question was there, hanging between them like a double-edged sword. If he asked, it wouldn’t go well. If he didn’t ask, he would _still_ have his assumptions. No answer was a good answer. “Just… this isn’t going to feel good.”

 

            “I can deal,” Billy’s lids had gone low, but his eyes were still on Steve, zeroed in on him. Steve grabbed a few of the butterfly stitches and leaned in. They were close enough that they shared the oxygen between them, but Steve’s mind couldn’t even process that. He was carefully dabbing away blood before placing the bandages. His lips were parted, tongue slipping to the side as he concentrated on making sure that it was placed correctly.

 

            As soon as Steve closed the second, larger gash, his eyes dropped to Billy’s. There was something there that he hadn’t seen before—a heat and uncertainty that he didn’t normally pair with Billy Hargrove. Without warning, Billy leaned forward and pressed his lips over Steve’s. It was quick, but long enough for Steve to feel the warmth of his skin, the slickness of his blood and the stuttering of his breath.

 

            When Billy pulled back, his eyes were on him again and Steve was _sure_ he was going to die. His heart was racketing against his chest, his head light—dizzy—and his skin flushed. This wasn’t what he expected. He had liked Billy for a while now, had come to terms with who he was and what he wanted, but _this_ , Billy kissing him? That was so far out from what he expected that he didn’t actually _have_ a response. He stared at Billy, jaw slack and his eyes wide.

 

            “Shit,” Billy breathed, “Shit. I’m—I shouldn’t have— _fuck_ —” he began to lean away and Steve made an undignified noise in the back of his throat. He reached up and carefully cupped Billy’s cheeks. He was sure that if it didn’t hurt, Billy would have pulled back.

 

            “Don’t,” Steve mumbled, “look, don’t…”

 

            “You’re not a—a—” There was pain in Billy’s face now, his downcast eyes wide with panic.

 

            “Queer? Pretty sure it’s called bi, but—” Steve shook his head, “That’s not what I’m trying to say. Damn. Just give me a second to think. I didn’t think this would happen and I just—I just—” he laughed, then, but it was weak. “Fuck, Billy. I’ve liked you for a long time.”

 

            “What?” Billy blinked and the shocked expression put a giddiness through Steve that he hadn’t felt in a _long_ time.

 

            “I’ve liked you for a while now,” Steve repeated and, after gathering what little courage he had, he leaned forward and pressed their mouths together. Billy made this soft, quiet noise in the back of his throat that coiled deeply into Steve’s gut. He immediately wanted more of that—more of _this_ Billy.

 

            With less blood, though. A lot less blood.

 

            “Jesus, Harrington,” Billy murmured as Steve finally broke off and leaned back. “ _Fuck_.” The last word was choked and Steve grunted as Billy slumped forward against him. He sat, frozen, his arms at his sides. He could feel Billy shaking and he heard his tiny gasps for air. His polo was probably ruined with Billy’s blood, and Steve would have cared not long ago, but now? It didn’t fucking matter. He tucked his arms around Billy’s shoulders and heard the clatter of glass fall on the gravel from Billy’s palm.

 

            “I’ve got you,” Steve murmured. It was so quietly spoken that, if Billy hadn’t been this close, he wouldn’t have heard it. Billy’s shaking intensified, and Steve knew he was crying harder, but then Billy’s hands clasped his shirt and held on. The fabric twisted and he felt Billy pull. He leaned closer and tightened his hold around his shoulders.

 

            They stayed like that long enough for Steve’s knees to begin to ache, for his mind to wander about the events that led them to this moment. He wouldn’t take any of them back.

 

            “I’ve got better uses for your knife,” Steve murmured and Billy shifted. He didn’t speak, and Steve understood. He probably couldn’t right now. He was still looking over Billy’s shoulder, unable to see his face. “I got something for you. I mean, it’s… it’s nothing special, but you’re gonna have to open it…”

 

            When Billy leaned back, his eyes still glimmered with tears, but there was a smirk on his face.

 

            “You buying shit for me now, Harrington?” His voice was scratchy, raw, but Steve smiled, anyway.

 

            “Hell, yeah. I couldn’t help it. I saw it and it screamed ‘ _Billy Hargrove_ ’!” Steve allowed his hands to slip down to Billy’s arms. He squeezed his biceps and then pressed another kiss to Billy’s lips. It was short, like the others, but the hunger between them was obvious now. There was no hesitation, and both teens were breathing a little heavier as they parted.

 

~*~

 

            It took only a bit longer for Steve to clean up the rest of the cuts and to remove the glass. Billy refused to get into Steve’s car, mentioning ‘blood on the seats’ and ‘he didn’t have money to pay for cleaning that shit.’ Steve grabbed the record and walked back over to Billy. When he handed it over, the smile that spread over Billy’s face was worth the drive, the emotions, the _kissing_.

 

            “Haunting of the Chapel,” Billy mused, “Slayer, huh? I thought you didn’t like them.”

 

            “But you do,” Steve chewed at his lower lip and fought the urge to tuck one of Billy’s stray curls behind his ear. He leaned against the Camaro, instead. “Wanna go to my place?”

 

            Billy’s eyes snapped up, and Steve liked the surprise in them. It melted into something else and he watched as Billy looked at the record. That switchblade came out, then, and Billy flipped it open to open the record.

 

            “You’ve got a player at your place?” Billy asked, as if him visiting hinged on listening to the record in his hands.

 

            “Of course,” Steve hadn’t—not before Billy—but he wouldn’t admit that. Not now, anyway.

 

            “Alright, pretty boy. I’ll follow you,” Billy grinned.

 

            It was the first time Steve had invited Billy to his house.

 

            It was far from the last.

 

~*~

 

            Steve patched Billy up a lot after that. It didn’t matter how much Billy fought him or how minor it was. Steve sat him down and washed away the hurt with his lips and fingers and voice.

 

~*~

 

            Not every visit to Steve’s house was based on his dad’s shitty behavior. Sometimes, they were able to just spend _time_ together without worrying or caring about other people. Until, of course, Billy decided to get into his parents’ alcohol stash.

 

            “Come _on_ , Billy! That’s expensive shit!”

 

            “Then we better not waste it, yeah?” Billy grinned and tugged Steve close. He had swiped a bottle of red wine, as dark as blood, from his mother’s wine rack and had taken Steve up to his bedroom.

 

            “You can’t just _drink_ that. It’s a delicacy!” Steve insisted and put his palm over his face as Billy used his damned switchblade to stab and then yank the cork out.

 

            “Good thing then,” Billy murmured, his eyes flickering up to Steve. “That I’m having it with you, huh, Steve?”

 

            “Wha—”

 

            Billy stepped forward, taking a gentle pull of the wine, before their lips slotted together. He parted his and Steve complied immediately, parting his own. The smoothness of the wine entered his mouth in a rush, and Steve whimpered as it fell down his throat. Some escaped the part in his lips, dripping down his chin and his jaw, a tickling drop on his throat.

 

            “I think I prefer you to the wine,” Billy’s voice was husky now, and Steve’s complaints melted away as those lips traced the droplet down his mouth, his jaw, and along the column of his throat.

 

            “ _Billy_ ,” Steve breathed out. He watched Billy take another drink of the wine and didn’t wait. He pushed forward and kissed him, and they shared the wine, shared the smoothness of liquid and themselves. They tasted each other until the wine was left forgotten and the sheets were tangled around them, the only sounds in the room panted breaths and whispered moans.

 

            The nights where they were able to sleep next to each other were some of Steve’s favorites.

 

~*~

 

            Steve hadn’t planned on Billy stumbling into a D&D session. In fact, that was quite possibly the _last_ thing he expected. The kids were piled in the living room—all six of them. There wasn’t a lot of free space on the floor, and as much as the kids hated him for it, Steve would _not_ let them eat while sitting on his mother’s carpet. That was _not_ happening.

 

            Fortunately, the brats hadn’t pulled him into this campaign. Of course, Mike insisted that Steve would cause them all to die. Dustin protested, but considering Steve couldn’t be around for every session, gave in with little fight. Mike and El sat hip-to-hip, sharing smiles, while Lucas and Max did the same. Of course, for his own sanity, Steve kept them about a foot apart. Despite how close he and Billy had gotten, he _still_ knew his dislike for Lucas (or for any male around Max). Will sat closest to Steve, his concentration not entirely on the game, but not far away, either.

 

            The rapping at the door made Steve jump and his stomach knotted. It could be anyone, really, but the person who was usually standing on the other side was Billy. However, it wasn’t their normal night, which meant something had happened (if it _was_ Billy). Steve got up, stepping around the kids while grumbling about the mess.

 

            All Steve could hope was that it wasn’t bad--that the damage Billy was about to walk in with wouldn’t be catastrophic. He opened the door and managed not to wince (Billy _hated_ that). Well, it wasn’t _terrible_ , but it wasn’t great. Billy still grinned at him, despite the bloody noise, the cut lip, and the bruise spreading across his cheek.

 

            “Evening, Harrington,” Billy leaned against the doorframe and Steve couldn’t help the stupid smile that tugged at his lips. “You make it a habit to keep people in the cold?”

 

            “It’s not even that cold,” Steve reached up and swiped the pad of his thumb over the blood that dripped from Billy’s nose.

 

            “I can see my breath,” Billy raised an eyebrow.

 

            “Should have worn a jacket.”

 

            “I don’t _have_ a winter jacket.”

 

            “Then get one.”

 

            “Give me one,” Billy’s grin widened and Steve laughed.

 

            “You’ll get cigarette smoke all over it.”

 

            “Like you’d care,” Billy put his hand on Steve’s chest and leaned in. Instead of kissing him, though, Billy pushed and Steve stumbled back into the house. He stepped in after him and closed the door.

 

            “Asshole,” Steve snorted and dusted himself off, as if Billy left grime on him.

 

            “Always for you, pretty boy,” Billy walked around him, as if he owned the damned place, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He paused, though, at the mountain of jackets on the kitchen table. “The shitheads here?” For a fraction of a second, Steve saw panic, and he moved quickly to soothe Billy’s already frayed edges.

 

            “Playing a game in the living room. It’ll be fine,” Steve stepped in front of Billy and took the beer from him. He popped it open, took a small sip, and handed it back.

 

            “What if you have a disease,” Billy grumbled and Steve laughed.

 

            “Don’t even pretend like you don’t know _exactly_ where my mouth has been.” Steve smiled wide and turned away. He froze, mid-step, as he caught sight of Dustin standing in entryway to the kitchen.

 

            “You have a _lot_ of explaining to do,” Dustin glared and Steve bit his cheek. Out of all the kids, he was closest to Dustin. It irritated him to know that he was scared of Dustin finding out, of being _disowned_ from “The Party.” It _did_ , though.

 

            “He doesn’t need to explain dick to you, Henderson,” Billy licked along the rim of the beer can and smirked. “Go play your shitty ass game.”

 

            “It’s not _shitty_. You’re shitty,” Dustin turned his eyes to Billy and Steve groaned. Great. This was great. Just _fantastic_.

 

            “Not exactly news,” Billy shrugged. “Get better comebacks, shitbird.”

 

            “Get a better haircut!” Dustin tossed back.

 

            “Grow a little taller.”

 

            “Button up your shirt for once!”

 

            “Shouldn’t you have teeth?”

 

            “Billy!” Steve slapped a hand over his face. “Stop it. Christ. Dustin. Aren’t you in the middle of a campaign or something?”

 

            Dustin glared at Billy, turned it on Steve, and then stomped back into the living room. They both heard a distant, ‘your asshole of a brother is here’ before the noise of The Party resumed.

 

            “I was having fun,” Billy mock-pouted, but then hid his grin behind the can as he took another swig.

 

            “I bet, but seriously. He has some sort of disorder or something that makes growing teeth hard,” Steve shrugged at the look Billy gave him. “Just… lay off, okay?”

 

            When Billy didn’t respond, Steve looked over and frowned “ _What_?”

 

            “You’re like… his mom _or something_ ,” Billy chuckled because Steve was _horrified_ and it was obvious.

 

            “You know… You know what…” Steve raised his hand and pointed at Billy, but nothing came out. He simply kept pointing until he dropped his hand and groaned. “ _Fuck_.”

 

            Billy laughed and Steve held his breath because moments like these were rare. Even beaten up, Billy was wild and almost entirely carefree in Steve’s presence. He wished Billy could feel like this all the damned time.

 

            “Oh. I got a package today. You can open it,” Steve wandered over to the table. He slid his hand underneath the pile of jackets and pulled out a brown box. It had a third-party company name on it, so Steve wasn’t sure what it was. It did have his name on it, at least.

 

            Billy put his beer down and pulled his knife out. When he opened it, Steve noticed that the blade didn’t flick out properly. Billy’s thumb had caught it and was bleeding a little, but he didn’t say anything about it.

 

            “What’s up with your knife?”

 

            “Spring broke,” Billy shrugged. “Still a good blade, though.” He slid the package open in three easy swipes. Steve peeled the folds back and felt his face turn red.

 

            “Steve fucking Harrington,” Billy mused as he took in the case of Farrah Fawcett Spray. “I think I just learned something _really_ interesting about you.”

 

            “Son of a bitch.”

 

~*~

 

            The _talk_ hadn’t gone completely awful with Dustin. It didn’t go… well, but Dustin’s main contention was that Steve had _terrible taste_ —" _Billy Fucking Hargrove, REALLY?”_ —not that he was kissing another guy. He rambled on about having a gay uncle and that’s when he had lost Steve, who was just happy that Dustin didn’t find him disgusting.

 

            And that was how Billy, or at least, the idea of Billy, began to seep into the Party.

 

            It wasn’t long before Dustin was demanding to see Billy’s skills at creating a character, at surviving in their world. Eventually, Steve was pulling a _very_ reluctant Billy into the living room and setting him down with the nerd brigade.

 

            “Barbarian,” Dustin stated firmly.

 

            “Definitely,” Lucas slid Billy a look and Max pinched his arm. “Ow! What! He _does_ have brute strength and the anger for one!”

 

            “And he is a brute,” Dustin added.

 

            “And the lack of brains,” Max mused. Billy flipped her off and she shrugged. “Lucas is right.”

 

            “Might even be illiterate,” Dustin nodded and Steve grabbed Billy’s arm to keep him from knocking him across the head.

 

            “Fuck all of you,” Billy glowered, and even if he _was_ cussing at them, Steve knew he was holding himself at bay for _him_. The knowledge spread warmth throughout his body and _shit_ , he was tumbling into a vat of emotions for this asshole.

 

            “Barbarian it is,” Mike nodded, and apparently, when Mike said it, it was fact. Billy flopped back against the couch.

 

            “So… what does this barbarian do?” The question made the kids perk up, and suddenly, Billy was pulled into a conversation where he was _sure_ one of the shitheads were going to pass out from talking too much and not breathing enough.

 

            Later, before the kids piled into Steve’s car to be dropped off at their respective houses, Billy found himself in a staring contest with Jane, the brown-eyed, curly-haired girl who kept sliding him looks throughout the game. The rest of the kids had already left, but he could hear one of them yelling for her.

 

            “You’re not… a barbarian,” El murmured. The look she gave him made his stomach twist. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and shrugged.

 

            “You got a better idea, curly fry?”

 

            “Ranger,” She smiled.

 

            “What’s that?”

 

            “It’s a warrior,” Jane looked like she was thinking, but her eyes were steadfast on him. He felt like moving again, but he didn’t want to look nervous. She _made_ him nervous. “But they’re smart… and they protect their friends.”

 

            Before Billy could respond, she was up and walking away, her lips still set in that knowing smile and her eyes shining.

 

            He had never felt so fucking exposed, and he hadn’t said or revealed a damned thing to her.

 

~*~

 

            They were at the quarry again. Hawkins was finally warming up after a brutal winter, and Steve was enjoying the fact that all he needed to wear was jeans and one of his polos. Hell, he couldn’t believe it was the end of April already. School was almost over, and he had spent more and more of his time with Billy Hargrove. The weirdest part of all of this, though, was that the more time they spent together, the less graduation and beyond worried him.

 

            Billy was incredibly intelligent, and he had been spending time tutoring Steve through his assignments. He had even begun to read to him, and things started to click for Steve. It was hard for him to admit that when he read, the letters crawled around the page. It was infuriating, and by high school, he had all but given up on trying to understand what the hell was going on in the book.

 

            When Billy read, though? He believed that words painted pictures. It hadn’t made sense before, not really, but _now_ he understood.

 

            Throughout all of this, Billy had become incredibly important to Steve. He would openly admit that he had a habit of becoming attached too easily, too quickly, too _willingly_. Even if they couldn’t act on their impulses at school, they weren’t biting at each other anymore. Billy still had his edge on the court, but Steve expected that. In fact, he wanted it. He _liked_ how aggressive Billy could get, and sometimes, he would egg it on by doing stupid shit or purposefully aggravating him.

 

            Steve usually paid for it later on—pinned beneath Billy’s body on his knees with his chest pressed into the floor. He would be _begging_ before Billy would let him come, tears burning his eyes and body trembling with need.

 

            “Steve,” he blinked, turning his face to Billy. “You’re off in your own damned world again, asshole.”

 

            “Yeah… sorry,” Steve grinned and reached over to squeeze Billy’s thigh. “I got us some new music.”

 

            “Oh?” Billy raised an eyebrow and tipped his head back against the seat. “Show me.”

 

             Steve reached into the backset and grabbed the small box. It was still in its wrapping, the plastic clinging to his skin before he dropped it into Billy’s lap.

 

            “Queen?” Billy blinked and picked up the box. “Holy shit, this is the _Complete Works_ box set. How did you…? Why do I keep asking that?” He laughed. Steve grinned and then shrugged. When Billy pulled out his knife, Steve reached forward and grabbed his hand.

 

            “Wait—don’t use that,” Steve’s cheeks tinted pink and he tilted his hips forward so he could reach into his back pocket. He pulled out a switchblade and then avoided Billy’s eyes as he pressed it into his palm. “This…this is for you.”

 

            “Why…?” Billy ran his fingers over the closed blade. He glanced over at Steve before flipping it open. The handle was similar to the color of his car, a dark blue, with a black stripe. The blade was sharp and slightly curved, but he could tell it was good steel. It was a well-made knife. Nothing like the one Billy had gotten from the gas station on the way in from Cali.

 

            “You kept cutting yourself with it,” Steve shrugged and chewed on the chapped part of his lower lip. “I knew it was important to you, and I… I thought you’d like a new one.”

 

            “Steve…” Billy ran his finger over the knife but was careful not to cut himself. Steve watched him closely, his stomach a wreck and his heart pounding against his chest.

 

            “I-if you don’t like it, I can always take it back. I don’t want you to feel like—“

 

            “No—no. It’s...” Billy licked his lips and Steve felt some of his uneasiness fall away.

 

            “It didn’t cost much, if that’s what you’re worried—“

 

            “Jesus fuck, Steve,” Billy laughed, but it sounded wet. “It’s fine. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and Steve’s breath caught. Billy coughed and opened the box set, obviously dodging any sort of discussion based on what he had just said. Steve wanted to talk about it, to prod. Instead, he sat back and watched Billy unwrap the set and choose the tape he wanted to listen to.

 

            Billy chose the Complete Vision track and pushed the cassette into Steve’s tape player.

 

            “Let’s get in the back, sweetheart. Let me show you _exactly_ how much I appreciate the gift,” Billy grinned, sharp and intense, and Steve’s heart hammered against his chest. More importantly, though, his cock started to swell against the hem of his jeans.

 

~*~

 

            No matter what anyone said, Steve believed that Billy had the body and face of a god—a marbled look that he had seen in his Art History course. Especially now, on his knees in the tight backseat of the BMW, hunched over Steve’s lap. Those curls, a mix of light and dark blondes, highlighted by the sun, fell over his shoulders and across his face. His eyes, glittering the way the quarry did when the rays hit it just right, stared up at him as that pink tongue explored the base of his cock.

 

            “Billy,” Steve reached out and tucked his fingers into Billy’s hair. He tugged, gently, pulling him up just enough so that his lips were level with the head of his cock. “Come on, baby.” When he heard that soft chuckle, the _real_ sound of enjoyment roll from Billy’s chest, Steve rocked his hips up and grinned.

 

            “Impatient,” Billy chided. Steve almost rolled his eyes, but instead, he tugged Billy’s hair again. He watched as those pink lips parted and fought to keep his eyes open as they slid down. Hot, wet, _perfect_ heat surrounded his cock and he moaned.

 

            When they had first started fooling around, Steve had been embarrassed about how loud he could be, especially compared to how quiet Billy was. The moment he tried muffling himself, though, Billy made sure to let him know _exactly_ how much he loved hearing him. He had taken him apart, and for the first time, Steve had felt _okay_ in his own skin. Billy made him feel that way—he just _did_.

 

            The sudden suction ripped Steve from his thoughts and he whimpered. His fingers tightened in Billy’s hair and he rocked up. As he did, he reached down with his other hand and cupped his cheek. It was a signal, a way for Billy to know what he wanted, but Billy didn’t move. He didn’t back up like Steve wanted him to.

 

            “Up. Let me fuck your mouth, Billy,” Steve murmured. Billy finally lifted, to about the middle of Steve’s cock. Steve tightened his hold in those pretty locks with one hand and dipped his thumb over Billy’s lower lip with the other. He pulled his jaw down, his breath catching as he began to thrust his hips up. He kept his thumb against Billy’s lip and teeth, forcing him to stay open. It was filthy and wet, saliva dripping onto his hand.

 

            But Billy was moaning, _panting_ on his cock as Steve slid into his throat, watched him gag, and then did it again. This was something else. This wasn’t what anyone else saw from Billy. Only _Steve_ got to see Billy used like this. Only he got to see Billy fall apart. Yes, the Cali teen was beautiful like this—spit dripping down his lips, face flushed, eyes glassy as he looked up at Steve while he fucked his mouth. Yet, it didn’t rival when Billy was on his back, when his spine was arching and his lips were in an ‘o’ as Steve drove into his body relentlessly. It didn’t rival the look of bliss as Steve forced him to come _untouched_.

 

            No, but it was a close second.

 

            The sound of rustling fabric made Steve grin. He knew Billy was stroking himself, knew that he was into this as much as Steve was. The rhythm of his thrusts was smooth, calculated, and sometimes he made sure to push deep enough to watch Billy gag and swallow. Despite how good it felt, how breathless he was, Steve made sure to pay attention to Billy’s eyes, his cheeks, the way his arm moved.

 

            It wasn’t long before Billy was moaning endlessly around him, his arm faltering, his eyelids fluttering shut. Steve tightened his hold in Billy’s hair and pulled up just enough to get his attention.

 

            “Not until I say, baby,” Steve murmured, _baby_ coming out like an endearment. “You don’t come until I do.”

 

            Billy blinks in understanding and his arm slows, despite the strained noise that comes out of his throat.

 

            “You’ll swallow, won’t you?” Steve pushed, his lips curling into a smirk. This had been something else that they had explored—Steve dominating Billy, telling him what to do, exactly how to do it, making him _beg_. It had been startling at first, spinning Steve’s world off its axis, but _fuck_ , after he got used to it? One look in the hall at school and Billy would be shifting restlessly in his desk in class. One lick of Steve’s lips. One brush of his fingers. It was exhilarating to think that he had the new King of Hawkins underneath his thumb and _no one knew_.

 

            As an answer, Billy dropped his mouth and swallowed over Steve. The sudden movement made Steve moan and his hips jerked. He started moving again, and that coiling in his lower spine, that heat that rolled in waves through his cock and his gut, exploded. Steve cried out and held Billy still, kept him there as he continued to rut into his throat. Despite swallowing, Steve’s thumb on his lip still forced some of his come to drip out of Billy’s mouth, to make a mess, and feeling _that_ only made his orgasm stronger, last longer.

 

            By the time his high was over, Steve was sure Billy was throbbing. He was proud that he hadn’t tried touching himself more, though, that he had listened. Steve licked his lips, dry from how hard he was panting, and pulled Billy off his cock by his hair. It was a gentle tug, and as Billy parted, the wet noise was fucking _obscene_.

 

            “Did so good for me,” Steve praised. He slid his thumb over Billy’s lower lip, smearing his come across the swollen skin. “You’re so pretty like this, Billy. It’s fucking sinful, you know that? Come here.” Steve watched Billy adjust himself and then crawl over his body. His eyes dropped to his cock, an angry red, throbbing as it hung close to Steve’s stomach.

 

            Steve reached out and curled his fingers around Billy’s cock. He stroked him a few times and knew, just _knew_ , that Billy was fighting his release. His whole body trembled, his breath hitching in his throat, his fingers digging into the upholstery. Steve stroked him for a few minutes, too light and slow for it to be more than just torturous. Billy buried his face into his neck and he chuckled.

 

            “You wanna come?” Steve teased and then almost laughed as Billy bit down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “I can’t hear you.”

 

            “I wanna come,” Billy panted onto his neck.

 

            “Really? It doesn’t sound like it,” Steve shivered as Billy bit him again. He knew it was in retaliation, but he also knew that Billy _knew_ the game.

 

            “Please,” Billy insisted as he rolled his hips forward, thrusting into Steve’s hand.

 

            “Put them together, sunshine,” Steve tipped his head so his lips brushed Billy’s ear. The nickname made Billy shudder.

 

            “ _Please_ , can I come?” Billy sounded _wrecked_ and Steve loved it. He suddenly tightened his hold and began to stroke Billy’s cock, swiping his thumb over the tip and squeezing near the base.

 

            “Come,” and Billy fucking _did_ —all over Steve’s polo and the small patch of skin that was showing from the cloth being pushed up. The rumbled moan that came from Billy made Steve dizzy. If he hadn’t just gotten off, he’d be hard again, and he’d force his California boy to ride him.

 

~*~

 

            The car smelled heavily of sex and they were an absolute mess, but Billy and Steve had somehow found a comfortable position in the back seats to lie back. Steve was practically on Billy’s chest, his head tucked against his collarbone and his arm looped around his waist. Billy’s heartbeat was strong under his ear and as Queen continued to play around them, the hand that held onto Steve’s hip tightening and his fingers beginning to tap out the beat to _I Go Crazy_.

 

            Then, it wasn’t only Billy’s heart that Steve heard. That tenor voice began to follow along with the lyrics, soft and reverent and _so calm_.

 

            “All I gotta do is think about you,

            Every night and day I go crazy,

            All I gotta do is put my hands on you.

            You better stay away from me, baby…”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at @SaChanPwns. :) Come talk to me!


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